<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>an engima wrapped up in a girl by TenebrisKukris</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975509">an engima wrapped up in a girl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenebrisKukris/pseuds/TenebrisKukris'>TenebrisKukris</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Evillious Chronicles, Vocaloid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Demonic Possession, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Trans Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenebrisKukris/pseuds/TenebrisKukris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Like most fairy tales, this story starts with a princess.</p><p>Pastel pink and precocious, the princess perfectly slips into her role as a protector and pawn. </p><p>trans!kyle. character study</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Union Server of Evillious 24 hour ficjam</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>an engima wrapped up in a girl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>yet another fic for the USOE ficjam, the prompt this month was 'puzzle' and all of my other ideas needed a bit more polish</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Katherine Marlon stares at the mirror and finds imperfection.</p><p>The dress she wears is an aberration, the corset is tied on too tight as the maids stuff her bra and straighten her back – a proper lady must always have the correct posture, she can almost hear Mother say. This whole evening is pointless. The prospect being betrothed to a man for the prospect of stability and politics is almost a guarantee at this party, and she’s feeling more mercurial than usual.</p><p>She squints at herself in the mirror. If it were up to her she wouldn’t even be wearing such an unholy thing – all these ruffles and skirts and corsets would be naught but ash if she could get her way. Mother wouldn’t be pleased if she were to do that though, and despite herself she can feel a shrill sense of satisfaction at the idea.</p><p>But needs must, and she will head to the ballroom, where Mother will inevitably introduce her to her betrothed. And then she will perhaps ask him politely to dance with her, and he will perhaps take her hand as his hand lingers on her waist. Then perhaps she will make her excuses after that and retreat back into the safety of her room.</p><p>She tries to ignore the way her chest twists at the image of her in this gaudy dress for the pleasure of everyone that isn’t her.</p><p>-x-</p><p>Slipping out of the castle has become more and more of a hassle as she’s gotten older. The image of a perfect princess still makes bile rise to her throat and she takes every opportunity to slip away unnoticed from this dreadful castle and her overbearing mother. She is, unfortunately, still recognizable with her hair cut as short as possible down to her shoulders and the dresses she has to wear make it hard to run and maneuver around the castle, not to mention sticking out like a sore thumb.</p><p>It was a stupid idea really, sending for a servant willing to buy some men’s clothes for her to sneak out of the castle easier. It was an idiotic decision, an incredibly stupid thing to do under her mother’s watchful gaze no less, but she can’t help the rush of relief that comes to her as she puts on the disguise and rushes to the full length mirror in her room.</p><p>She almost doesn’t recognize herself.</p><p>Her annoying hair is placed under a cap and while it took some time to bind her breasts – she can’t breathe as easy anymore, but the prospect of exiting the castle undetected is a small price to pay – an onlooker would never be able to tell that this peasant and the Princess of Marlon were the same person. The idea that she can just walk out of her room right now and not have anyone hound her for her terrible posture or to drag her to etiquette class is an enticing one.</p><p>She can’t help but give a large grin, her mind wondering what kind of hijinks she could get up to incognito.</p><p>For a fleeting second she considers running. Running away from the kingdom, from her responsibilities and from her mother and from everything she’s ever known. She bites her lip and considers. She doesn’t know the first thing about living outside the palace, and despite the friction between them, her mother’s tried her best to love and support her. She almost feels guilty for even trying to escape the palace. Almost.</p><p>-x-</p><p>It isn’t until she meets Michaela that Katherine knows she’s made a mistake.</p><p>That is, she almost tripped when she saw her – and she couldn’t help but utter the corniest line that had to ever have been uttered by those terrible romance novel protagonists. Katherine asked if she was an angel, and Michaela, pure and perfectly pretty despite being ordinary smiled back at her.</p><p>She was dressed as a man, of course, and it isn’t until after they spent the day together, talking about nothing in particular that the reality of the situation sinks in. She can’t keep up the charade forever – deceiving Michaela like that leaves a bad taste in her mouth – but Katherine doubts that she’d react kindly to the reveal. Like a particularly annoying puzzle piece she'd hesitate and deliberate endlessly for the right moment, the right situation to tell her.</p><p>(It takes longer than Katherine would’ve liked for her to realize she would’ve never told Michaela who she was.)</p><p>-x-</p><p>She never gets the chance to.</p><p>Michaela dies. All that is left for her is revenge. The days of the revolution are packed with anger and bitterness enough to blaze through the whole continent. There are days where she wakes up and doesn’t know who she is in the mirror anymore.</p><p>Is she the noble Princess Katherine of Marlon or just Karchess the revolutionary? It’s a puzzle she can’t solve; her edges sharp and jagged with the threat of failure and discovery amongst the other revolutionaries. She’s afraid, but she’s been afraid her whole life for a future she never really wanted with a price she was never willing to pay.</p><p>Disguising herself becomes as routine as the lessons she painstakingly tried to avoid in her youth, but without any of the annoyance and disdain. The routine just fits, somehow, surprisingly, a piece of herself that she didn’t know could adjust in a way she never though could work. It becomes almost natural.</p><p>It isn’t until Germaine cuts her chest in the middle of sparring that she realizes that it is anything but.</p><p>-x-</p><p>The sword whispers promises unnecessary and unbidden. There is no one left she loves, no memory left unblemished by pain and loss that yet another burden is trite in comparison. Perhaps it was foolishness to run from her fate, the shackles binding her to the kingdom she both loved and hated and a mother who has almost gracefully seceded power.</p><p>Of course there would be a caveat. She just didn’t think it would come from a demon possessing a sword. Still, it isn’t too bad a fate, she leads the country in name and in deed though her mother still finds the time to direct him in certain matters, and there isn’t any reason to deny her this. Not anymore. She doesn’t have the will to resist.</p><p>And yet the sword still whispers. Perhaps being possessed was a part of Prim’s plan for Katherine, and yet faced with the prospect of contracting with such a thing; there is nothing that it can offer her that she wants. And yet a longing for something other than love and lust remains.</p><p>It is only as she changes into an extravagant dress for yet another party that she can no longer recognize herself in the mirror. The makeup, the corset and perfect posture is almost a copy of the person she’d always wanted to distance herself from.</p><p>She almost screams. Her nails dig into the soft flesh of her palms as the sense of abject failure and distraught sink into her like the stones on ocean floor. Is this future she wanted for herself?</p><p>The sword breaks through her thoughts with the intensity of a hurricane.</p><p>
  <em> <strong>I will grant you your ideal form. You need only take the blade.</strong> </em>
</p><p>There is silence at that admission, the roar of a tsunami at her ears as her hands shake from the realization that has been so utterly obvious from the very beginning.</p><p>The last piece of the puzzle is clear to her.</p><p>In one fluid motion, she unsheathes the blade and plunges it into her chest.</p><p>-x-</p><p>Kyle Marlon stares at the mirror and finds himself.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>